


Four Hands and a Suitcase

by gin_tonic



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: snape_potter, Fix It Fest, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-05
Updated: 2011-08-05
Packaged: 2017-10-22 06:00:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/234642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gin_tonic/pseuds/gin_tonic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The last battle doesn't go like it should, but in the aftermath Harry realises that things could have gone worse. He decides to stay at Hogwarts and discovers far more about himself and Snape than he had ever expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Four Hands and a Suitcase

**Author's Note:**

> A huge thank you to my beta !!!

Harry stared at Fred's body, lying there on the ground, motionless. He heard George's wail as if it was coming from far away. He felt numb. Hermione was standing next to him, frozen in shock, staring at Percy, George and Ron, who were kneeling over Fred, sobbing. Then Harry heard the fighting coming closer and he pointed his wand down the hall.

"We have to leave!" he shouted at the others.

"I'm not leaving him!" yelled George, still kneeling next to Fred, his face tear-streaked and pale beneath the dust. "He isn't dead!"

"George -" Harry swallowed thickly, not knowing what to say. But they had to leave, had to go to the Shrieking Shack and find Voldemort and Nagini.

"I'M NOT LEAVING HIM!"

Helplessly, Harry looked at Ron, whose face told of the shock he was in, then at Percy. Percy, who took a deep breath and nodded at Harry. "I'll stay with them," Percy managed to grind out. The sounds of fighting got louder. There was no other way but to leave. Harry grabbed Hermione's and Ron's arms and tugged them forwards.

"We can't just -" Ron stumbled over his own words as he resisted Harry's pull.

"We have to," said Hermione quietly. That was all it took and then they were running down the hall. Harry cast a last glance at Percy and George, standing protectively in front of Fred. He prayed they would be alright, that they would make it, but he knew full well that everyone's chances of survival were dim that night. Then they were out of sight as the trio pounded down the stairs, jumping over gaps, avoiding stones that had fallen on the ground as the castle shook under the onslaught of spells and giants.  
"Hurry!" Harry yelled and barely ducked a spell that came from his right. He cast an _Impedimenta_ as quick as he could, never pausing to stop and see whether he had hit his mark.

 

******

 

Harry climbed through the hole into the shack as quick as he could. There was blood everywhere, staining the window behind Snape, the floor, the robes. The foul stink of Nagini still hung in the air, accompanied by maliciousness that seemed to be everywhere Voldemort had been – a combination that made Harry gag. He threw himself on his knees next to Snape and pressed his hand against the man's throat. Slowly, Snape moved his head to look at Harry.

"Sssh, you're going to make it," Harry said and feared at the same time that he had just told a lie. Snape blinked sluggishly.

"Your eyes..." Snape mumbled. His mouth was barely moving, his voice barely more than a breath.

"Please." Harry blinked away the tears that threatened to come. No matter how much he had hated that man, he couldn't let him die. Not another man from his past, not the only link to his parents in this magical world that he still had.

"Take them." Snape moved his hand around, pointing towards his temple. A silvery substance was trickling tear-like from his eyes. Harry shook his head.

"Take them!" Urgency was in Snape's voice and Harry snapped at Hermione to get him a flask or something. He finally held a glass vial to Snape's face to catch his tears, the whole time keeping his hand on Snape's neck. Blood quelled beneath his fingers

"Your eyes..." Snape said again and attempted a smile. "Look... at... me."

"Can't we do anything? We've got to help him!" Harry yelled. He couldn't let another one die, not when he was holding him under his hands.

Hermione started looking through her bag, but it was Ron who dropped down on his knees next to Harry and held the tip of his wand against Snape's neck. Ron whispered words in Latin that Harry didn't recognise, then, slowly, Ron pulled his wand away. Something green trailed behind it, dripping, sizzling on the floor and burning through a bit of robe it had landed on.

"Dittany!" Hermione pressed a flask into Harry's hands and he poured the potion between his hand and the wound, only daring to leave it uncovered for a couple of short seconds. Snape's breathing was laboured and his eyes fell shut, then fluttered and opened again. "Take your hand away, Harry."

He didn't want to, but a gentle tug on his arm made Harry drop his hand. Snape's neck was bloody, but there was no blood pouring out. The wound had closed. "I... did we...?" Harry placed his hand on Snape's chest, could feel a faint, but steady heartbeat and slow breaths lifting Snape's chest. Snape needed a healer - they needed to take him to Madam Pomfrey, surely she could do something. He looked at the others, their grim faces, and opened his mouth to say something when suddenly Voldemort's voice could be heard again. Harry cringed, held his head like he had yet another one of those headaches that seemed to come whenever he was connected with Voldemort, but this time Hermione and Ron seemed to feel the same.

He heard Voldemort speak to them. He gave an ultimatum and it came down to whether Harry'd die to save everyone else or stay, fight and let everyone die. But who could guarantee that Voldemort would keep his word? How could he make sure that Voldemort wouldn't just kill him and then move on to slaughter everyone in the castle?

He swallowed heavily and nodded as Hermione and Ron implored him not to listen to anything Voldemort had said. "Come on, we need to get back to the castle," Hermione said and helped Ron up. Harry cast a glance at Snape, but decided to leave him here for the time being. "A stabilising spell," he heard himself mutter and Hermione cast one. Snape would be safer here than in the castle. Voldemort already thought him dead; he wouldn't come looking for him in the shack, nor would anyone else.

 

******

 

They found everyone in the Great Hall. Mrs Weasley kept asking where Percy, Fred and George were, but Harry couldn't bring himself to answer. He couldn't tell her that Fred was dead and that George wouldn't leave his side. He heard Ron tell her that they were up in the hallways, trying to see if the coast really was clear, and felt oddly grateful that Ron had just lied to his mother.

"I have to go find them," Ron said as he joined them again. Hermione took his hand and Harry nodded at them. They would be safe together.

"I got to..." Harry looked at the vial filled with Snape's memories that he was still clutching tightly and they understood. But he couldn't leave them, not yet. He had to check on... He needed to see if they were still alive. "I'll come with you."

 

They ran up the stairs to where they had seen the others last. Minister Thicknesse was lying on the ground, but Harry couldn't tell whether he was just petrified or dead, nor did he really care. Other people he recognised as Death Eaters were lying there as well. Then his eyes fell on Percy, who was standing there, breathing heavily, bleeding from a small wound on his arm and looking absolutely and formidably terrifying.

"Percy!" Ron shouted and ran to his brother, hugging him close. Harry followed in more laboured steps and spotted George, who was kneeling next to Fred, his wand trained on his twin.

"George, what –" Harry began and fell silent as George turned to look at him. Tears were in his red eyes, yet not spilt, and he said quietly: "He isn't dead."

Harry dropped to his knees and swallowed thickly. "George—" he started again, but George grabbed his hand and pulled it towards Fred, resting it on Fred's neck.

"Feel that? He isn't dead!" Harry wanted to pull his hand away, but suddenly he felt it, a faint _thumpa thumpa_ , a pulse. He looked up at George with wide eyes. George only said: "I'd know. I'd know if he was dead."

Harry called Ron and the others over and everyone in turn checked on Fred. Ron fell in Hermione's and Percy's arms, sobbing with relief. If George hadn't been so stubborn and so sure that Fred wasn't dead, maybe he wouldn't still be alive. What if they had left him? Harry shook his head. But they hadn't. George had known and what-ifs weren't important anymore. They had survived, that was what he needed to know. He hadn't failed everyone, not yet, and he sure as hell wouldn't start on doing so now.

He heard how Hermione asked George what spell he was using on Fred – a stabilising spell, she was told, one that tapped into George's own core to ensure that Fred would stay with him. "Get him down to Madam Pomfrey," Harry said as he stood up. "I have to go look at something."

 

******

 

Harry lay on the cold, stone floor of Dumbledore's office and blinked, first slowly, then rapidly. _Snape_ , he thought and shuddered. What that man had endured for him. All throughout watching those memories he’d felt that Snape had thought he was going to die as he gave the memories to him. And he had felt... protected, in a weird way. Snape's reluctance to tell him about his fate had been obvious, nearly tangible, and yet...

And yet.

Harry wished he could get to know the man who had done so much to ensure Harry's safety, who had loved his mother so much and had cherished their friendship, even though at the end everything had been so... fucked up, really. Snape was a completely different man than the one he had known and he just wished that there was time for them to get to know each other. Not Potter and Snape, but Harry and Severus.

Harry swallowed. He knew what he had to do. The memories had been clear on that. Dumbledore had been clear. And yes, maybe he had been raised like a pig for slaughter; maybe he should be angry at Dumbledore for that, for the manipulation. But he couldn't bring himself to. Too much was at stake, Harry knew that first hand. He would do what was asked of him.

 

******

 

Harry felt oddly detached as he came down from Dumbledore's old office. He knew what he had to do now. Finally, he knew what to do to end this whole mess. He remembered not wanting to die, not wanting to give up. But this wasn't really giving up, now, was it?

Neville was the only one he met and Harry knew that Neville wouldn't stop him, that he would understand the urgency in his voice. He told Neville what he needed to know and that he had to kill Nagini at all costs, then he left under his invisibility cloak.

Harry left the castle in complete silence. He tried not to see the blood pools on the floors and on the grounds, the shattered statues and walls that the giants had torn down. He let his feet carry him into the forest and only when he was sure that he was alone and out of sight, he took out the Snitch and said: "I am about to die." Then he brought the Snitch to his mouth and touched it with his lips.

He saw his parents, Sirius and Remus and found courage again. If they were with him, he could do it. "Just... stay with me," he said and they promised. He wouldn't be alone, he knew. And when he got to the other side – when he was dead he would see them again and be with them. Slowly, Harry started walking again until he reached the clearing where Voldemort was waiting for him. The sea of Death Eaters parted – not in respect, not in fear, but in expectation. They gave way until no-one was standing behind him and the only one in front of him was Voldemort himself.

He wanted to shout at Voldemort to just do it, to get it over with. He had expected Voldemort to gloat and make a long speech. But in the end he just said his name and wore an expression that was off in so many ways, before he raised his wand and uttered the killing curse. Harry saw a green flash and that was it.

 

******

 

Harry held the spell against Voldemort for as long as he could. He felt his arm wavering, felt exhaustion creep up in his body, but he wouldn't give in. This had to end, now. He put all he had into this wand, saw the faces of those he had lost, reminded himself of those that were still alive. Hermione. Ron. George. Fred. Neville. And Snape. Snape, who was lying in the Shrieking Shack, clinging to life and waiting for Harry to come get him.

Harry let out a yell that was fuelled not by anger and hate, but by love and the need to protect his friends. He felt Voldemort's spell give way, could see Voldemort tremble and he forced out every bit of energy that he had in him. The spells sizzled and he saw green of Voldemort's Avada grow dimmer and dimmer. And suddenly, there was no resistance at all. Harry's spell flew forward and crashed into Voldemort, who shrieked one last time and was gone.

 

******

 

As soon as Harry had made sure that his friends were still alive - some barely, but Ron and Hermione were okay, Neville bloody but triumphant and the Weasleys were still standing and breathing, even Fred – and once he had shaken off everyone, he made his way – stumbling, limping – to the Shrieking Shack. He stopped when he heard footsteps behind him. He hadn't expected anyone to follow him and yet there was Draco Malfoy, looking contrite and... helpless. Harry blinked. He had seen so many expressions on Draco's face, down to terror at the sight of Fiendfyre and Voldemort, but never had he seen him helpless. He didn't know what to say, so he just nodded and kept on walking.

Draco followed him inside the Shack and gasped as he saw Snape lying there.

Harry immediately searched for a pulse and found one. It was steady and he exhaled in relief. He grasped one of Snape's hands and squeezed it, gently.

"Is he...?"

"He's alive," Harry said and looked up at Draco.

"He's my godfather." Draco ran his hand through his hair, pausing as he noted that some of it was sticking together because of dried blood. Harry didn't ask whether Draco was hurt – the fact that he was moving about was evidence enough that he was okay. "He needs a healer."

Harry nodded. "That's why I'm here."

"I can help," Draco offered and Harry saw another feature he hadn't noted in Draco before: shyness. Again, he nodded and together they levitated Snape out of the Shack.

 

******

 

They'd turned the Great Hall into an infirmary. Healers and medi-wizards and witches were brought in from St. Mungos as soon as possible and it was decided to keep everyone in Hogwarts, as it was the only place so far that was safe. Harry had thought that with Voldemort's death the war would end, but it seemed that there were enough evil minded bastards out there to drag this war out for months to come .

Everyone who was able-bodied was set on rotation schedule to watch the perimeter. Harry was sitting on a camp bed they had forced him onto, saying that he needed to rest. One part of him agreed, the other wanted to be out there, protecting his friends.

He looked to his left at Snape, who lay there sleeping. The healers had administered whatever help they could – they had been fast and hurried and Harry hadn't understood a thing about what they were doing, save the fact that they gave Snape sleeping potions and something against the pain. They had said that he was in a critical condition, but that things were looking good.

He would live, Harry thought and exhaled slowly. He felt tension leaving his body slowly - more with every passing minute. Sadness, desperation and sheer exhaustion tugged at him, but he didn't want to succumb, didn't want to break down. Not now, not here where everyone could see him. Someone had put up curtains, but they barely shielded them. Harry had demanded that his cot would be placed next to Snape's, that they wouldn't be separated by a curtain. He had to stay close, had to make sure that Snape was alright.

"You should rest," Ginny said as she entered the small enclosure. Her face was full of kindness, but she, too, was worn out.

Harry shook his head. "I can't, I have to—"

Ginny gently pushed him back until he was lying on the cot. She took the blanket and covered him with it. "You are exhausted. After everything you did..." She closed her eyes and smiled slightly. "You need to rest." She looked over at Snape and Harry wondered what she thought about, what she saw. Did she remember how Snape had treated him, what he had been like as a Headmaster? Knowing how Snape could be a bastard, how he must have behaved whilst performing his act of being on Voldemort's side... It had to look real and Harry was sure Snape had done things that others wouldn't find forgivable. And yet, when Ginny turned towards Harry he couldn't see even remnants of hate. Just something that Harry couldn't grasp. "He will be here in the morning."

With that she left and, with his eyes trained on Snape until they got too heavy, Harry fell asleep.

 

******

 

He woke up hours later, in the middle of the night, as he felt someone standing close by. He had his wand pointed at the intruder immediately. His hand shook slightly as his eyes adjusted to the moonlight and the dim shine of candles that were burning outside their confinement of the curtains. Then he noticed it was none other than Draco who stood there at the entrance, hugging his arms to his chest and shivering.

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked, not caring that he sounded unfriendly. This was Draco Malfoy, who had just woken him from his sleep. He should count himself lucky that Harry hadn't hexed him.

"He will be alright?" Draco asked in a whisper, not looking at Harry.

For a couple of seconds Harry hesitated to answer. He didn't want Draco to know about Snape, didn't want him close, if he was being honest. But then he remembered that Draco had said Snape was his godfather. Snape was Draco's family. "Yeah."

Draco nodded slowly, but didn't move away. It was obvious, even to Harry in his befuddled state, that something was off, that Draco had something on his mind. He didn't ask, though, didn't know whether he actually wanted to know.

"They took them," Draco finally volunteered after a couple of minutes. "My parents. The Aurors took them."

Harry nodded slowly. That only made sense. Despite the fact that they hadn't actually done any fighting they had stood on Voldemort's side, had housed him. Though maybe they hadn't had a say in that latter matter, they had once chosen to follow the man and had done so again when Voldemort reappeared. No-one had forced Lucius Malfoy to drop Tom Riddle's diary into Ginny's cauldron. Some might say that he had already paid for that with his stay in Azkaban, but Lucius Malfoy had broken out of there before he had served his time. That he was incarcerated now only made sense. Harry wasn't so sure about Narcissa, though. After all, he owed her his life, kind of. "Why not you?" He had meant it to sound less harsh, but it didn't seem like Draco was taking offence. Instead he hugged his arms tighter to his chest and shook his head.

"I... they said I am only a child. I... maybe I should be down there with them." Draco bit his lip. "If they are responsible... none of us had a choice!"

"Your parents had. Your father, at least, made that choice long before you were born."

"Are you saying that I'm innocent in this?!" It was then that Harry noted how frantic Draco was. The Malfoy he knew would deny every responsibility as soon as he could. Slowly, Harry swung his legs over the edge of the bed and patted the thin mattress next to him.

"No, I don't," Harry said. Why mince his words? "Sit down before you collapse." Draco did as he was told, but that didn't stop him from shaking. "Did no-one appoint you a bed?" Draco shook his head.

"They took my wand."

Harry's eyebrows rose. "What?"

"They said I might be a child, but that I'm still responsible for what I did." Draco put his head in his hands. "All this bloody mess. All for nothing. I know... Potter, I _know_. But—"

"It's over now."

"For me, it isn't." Draco pressed his fingers against his temple. He looked like a madman then, his hair still bloodied and messy, his eyes sunken and marred with dark circles. "It's all in here. Vince and fire and death everywhere. Months of being afraid. I was sure I was going to die. And in a way I would have welcomed it." A sob broke loose from his lips, but Harry made no move to comfort him. "Now I'm glad I'm alive. Isn't that fucked up?"

Harry shook his head, but would say no more. He was tired, his body ached and there would be enough messes to sort out in the morning. He got up, took one of his shoes – he had lost the other one along the way – and transformed it into a cot that filled the space between Snape's and the one he had been sleeping on. Another spell made a blanket from the tattered robe Draco had been wearing. Taking his own blanket, Harry lay down on the newly created cot, that smelled of old leather, and closed his eyes. "Go to sleep, Draco."

 

******

 

In the morning, when Harry woke up, Draco was gone. Snape was still asleep and Harry decided that he should go looking for some breakfast or the rumbling of his stomach would surely wake the man. He found Hermione next to the porridge and, as he spooned his bowlfull, asked her: "Have you seen Draco?"

Hermione blinked. "Malfoy? He grabbed breakfast and slunk off somewhere, licking his wounds."

"So no-one took him?"

Hermione frowned. "Harry, are you alright?"

He just shrugged and started eating. "I just... I don't want any more fighting, okay?" Hermione's gaze softened at that immediately and she patted his shoulder. He looked around. People were in various stages of getting up – those that could, anyway. He was glad that the dead had been taken away. He wouldn't have been able to bear looking at them. He saw Neville bring his bowl and an empty cup back and they nodded at each other in greeting. They were comrades now. Brothers in arms. What a weird feeling, to have known someone for years, to have slept in the same dorm as him and suddenly find yourself thinking that you fought together – and won. He had heard Neville cry for his nan in his sleep, had seen him swaying after the Yule Ball, because Neville secretly loved dancing, had heard him _wanking_ for God's sake! And now they weren't just two Gryffindors, two friends, anymore. Now they were survivors.

When he'd finished the bowl, he looked up at Hermione again. "How's Fred?"

"Stable. George has been feeding him some of his energy. The healers warned him that it's dangerous and that it would create a bond between them, but George just told him to fuck off." She sounded amused at that. Harry remembered times when the word _fuck_ would have made her flustered and she would have scolded them for using it. Life with two guys in a tent clearly had its impact on Hermione as well. "After all, if I know two people who share a bond it's those two. George's been keeping Fred alive like that until the healers came. And now he doesn't want to stop, because it might speed up Fred's recovery."

"Good to hear that they'll be alright." He meant it, too. If Fred would have died... He didn't want to imagine what would have become of George. He didn't want to think of what would have become of him if Ron or Hermione had died and he had lived. Harry shook his head to clear away those thoughts and got up, stretching. "I'll go back to check up on Snape. Say hallo to the Weasleys for me, will you?"

Hermione hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "But make sure to come by later, okay?"

 

******

 

It took them days to clear the magical world enough that people could start going home. On the first day parents who had secure homes came to pick up their children, not all of them finding what they had come looking for. More students left the next day, then those who could be put up in St. Mungos followed. The Weasleys, Harry and Hermione opted to stay behind, but as the days passed Hermione got more and more restless, eager to go looking for her parents. Ron agreed to go with her and on the fourth day, with the blessings of the Weasleys, they were off. Fred and George, now even more inseparable than before, as well as Snape were moved into the hospital wing – at least the part that was habitable still. The rest of the Weasleys made it their goal to get the rest of that part of the castle ready, at least. Harry, still exhausted, helped where he could, but alternated between there and Snape's bedside. Draco was still in the castle as well. He was quiet, had begun to clear a hallway on his own. His parents had been taken into proper custody in the Ministry. Harry had talked to Kingsley and told him what had happened in the forest, how Narcissa had helped him. Kingsley said he would take it under consideration, seeing as he was now the highest ranking official they had in their part of the Wizarding World. Draco, Harry found out, had nowhere to go. The manor had been seized – another move that was anything but surprising. It had been one of the headquarters of Voldemort's reign, after all.

 

It was nearly a week after the battle, in the middle of the night when Harry, plagued by nightmares of dead bodies, a burning castle and an empty King’s Cross Station, couldn't sleep, that Snape opened his eyes for the first time. Harry was at his side instantly. He grabbed Snape's hand and squeezed it, just like he had done when Snape had been lying in the Shack.

Snape blinked, his eyes first unfocussed, then settling on Harry. For a long time he stared at Harry. Finally, he said with a raspy voice: "So we're both dead then, Potter?"

Harry sniffed and shook his head. "No, we're not," he said and smiled.

"But... the Dark Lord!"

"Is dead." Harry pressed his free hand against Snape's shoulder to prevent him from getting up. Snape's warmth penetrated his thin, infirmary issued robes, that had been spelled on him. He felt alive. "Voldemort is dead."

Again, Snape blinked, trying to process what he was hearing. Harry launched into the tale of what had happened, pausing only to thank Snape. He didn't let go of Snape's hand, not even once, and Snape, shocked as he was, didn't try to pull it back, either.

 

******

 

Harry stayed in the infirmary over the next couple of weeks. The rest of the castle was still uninhabitable and the repairs would take months, at least. He left only to attend the funerals, standing side by side with Hermione and Ron, and some of the hearings of the Wizengamot. Lucius Malfoy was sentenced to five years in Azkaban with the option of probation after that period, depending on another hearing and good behaviour. Narcissa Malfoy was pardoned, Draco placed on probation with community service – he had to help rebuilding Hogwarts and in return they gave him back his wand. When Harry saw Draco they rarely spoke a word, just nodded at each other in passing, but Draco seemed to be somewhat at peace with what he was doing and where he was living. Snape received a full pardon as well, and if Harry will be successful, he would be thought of when the ministry got around to handing out Orders of Merlin. But you never know, Harry thought. Their world was still deep in chaos, people didn't trust each, not yet, and wherever you went you had to undergo spell-checks for Imperius, Polyjuice and other means of disguise and tampering.

That was what he told Snape, too, when he asked why Harry was still staying at the hospital wing, still insisting on occupying the bed next to him. "Besides, where else would I go?"

"You could rent a flat, Potter. Go and do something in the world. Help – you do have a saviour complex, after all," Snape said as he stared at the ceiling.

Harry shrugged. "I am helping."

"You're restoring a school. Surely there are more important places you could be."

"Nothing and nowhere is more important than Hogwarts," Harry exclaimed hotly and got up. "Hogwarts is my home! Has been more of a home for me than any other place. And the students need to be able to come to a place where they can feel safe again. We need routine."

"You want everything to go to how it was." Snape sighed and tugged the blanket covering his body higher. His neck was still wrapped in gauze and he was still pale – paler than he had been normally – but his voice was better and he was clearly recovering. Still, he was weak and apart from trips to the loo, Madam Pomfrey didn't allow him to leave his bed.

"Not everything." Harry shook his head and risked a glance at Snape. Despite Harry talking to Snape more than he ever had, they hadn't _talked_. Not properly at least. There was so much he wanted to know, but he didn't know how to ask. How did one go about asking another person who they really were? He had thought about starting with Quidditch, strike up a conversation with something mundane, but Snape definitely wasn't a man interested in mundane chatter. So Harry had talked about the castle and the repairs that were going on, dropping in tales about Draco and how he was doing, because as his godfather Snape would probably want to know about that kind of thing.

Snape never asked, was never the active part in starting a conversation, but Harry figured he would just have to be stubborn about it and persist with the talking and maybe Snape would open up sooner or later. Unfortunately, his patience was wearing thin. He just wanted to start to elaborate, as Ginny entered the room.

She was still staying at the castle as well, together with the rest of her family. Fred was on his way to getting better and George, while still exhausted from the transfer, was doing okay too. Unfortunately they were only talking in turns nowadays. It was unnerving to listen to them, but they didn't seem to be bothered. The healers said it would take time for them to get back to normal, but that they were doing alright.

"Hey ya, Harry," Ginny said and smiled. Harry, after glancing at Snape, who had turned away from them and pretended to sleep, walked with her to the window on the other side of the spacious rooms. "How are you?"

Harry nodded and shrugged, and Ginny, with a little shake of her head, asked: "And how's he?"

"Doing alright, I guess. Poison is gone completely from his system."

Ginny nodded, then took his arm to tug him a bit closer to her. "Listen, Mom said she wanted to go back to the Burrow and start straightening up."

"Wasn't the Burrow destroyed?" Harry remembered hearing the news and being afraid that he had lost Ginny, Molly and the others forever. He shuddered at the thought.

Ginny moved her hand around and twitched her lips in a way that she always did when she wanted to indicate vagueness. "There are ruins. We're thinking of putting up the old tent for the time being. The Burrow can be restored, but it'll take time." She moved her foot around and stared out the window. Harry followed her eyes out to the courtyard, were pieces of the castle walls were still lying around. Those would require heavier magic than any of the castle's inhabitants were able to cast. They needed specialists – specialists who were direly needed these days. Maybe he should look into these spells, Harry thought. "It's our home," Ginny continued. "I grew up around these fields, the little pond down the lane, you know. Not living there... not having the Burrow to come home to..."

"I understand."

"I'll go with Mom. Dad will stay here with Fred and George, but Percy, Fleur, Bill and Charlie want to come to the Burrow as well." She gave him a look, studied his face, then glanced over his shoulder at Snape. "You'll stay here." It wasn't even a question, though Harry was surprised that she didn't ask him to come. He would have said no, he knew that. And apparently she knew, too. Ginny hugged him close. "You watch out for yourself, okay? And you can always come visit." She laughed a little, sadness tinkering around the edges of her smile, her eyes. "Mom sure wouldn't mind and we could always use the help."

Harry didn't know what to say, so he just hugged her again and nodded. This was a goodbye, of sorts at least. Not a goodbye forever, not one that would mean they wouldn't see each other again, but one that he, a little more than a year ago at least, hadn't expected to ever come. It didn't hurt, surprisingly, but made him slightly melancholic for what could have been. But he couldn't see the white picket-fence and the bunch of children anymore, anyway. Something had happened these past months, something he would sooner or later have to deal with. Just... just not now.

 

******

 

Three days after the majority of the Weasleys had left, Snape struck up a conversation with him. Harry was just putting his socks on as it happened. It came so out of nowhere, that Harry nearly fell off the bed.

"Why haven't you left as well?" Snape sitting upright in his bed. Some colour had crept back into his cheeks, but he was still weak enough to be confined to bed.

After Harry had recovered from the initial shock, he answered: "I already told you, this is my home."

Snape raised an eyebrow. The gesture was so infinitely Snape that Harry couldn't help but grin. "Yes. But there are other parts of the castle that are habitable by now. While I do understand why you prefer to stay at Hogwarts to living in a tent with the Weasley bunch, I do not understand why you are still here." Snape looked Harry over, then stared at Harry's face, his eyes hard. "Your hurts are healed, you have no reason to be here."

Harry smiled wryly at that. "I got every reason that I need."

Snape let out a frustrated growl and snapped: "Stop being so cryptic, Potter! Subtlety was never your forte and you will never be any good at it! Just spit it out!"

Harry stared at the man, not knowing what to say next. The truth about how he wanted to get to know the man behind the evil git mask? Something that would be less embarrassing? Or should he just get on with everything and confess to dreaming about Snape nearly every night since he had seen those memories? "I just...," he started and blushed down to the roots. He cleared his throat in a desperate attempt to clear his head. Snape gave him a _look_ that said if Harry wouldn't start talking sense soon he'd get up and strangle him. Harry could probably count himself lucky that Snape didn't have his wand at the moment. "The memories you gave me -"

Snape sank back into his pillow. "You want to know more about your mother."

Harry hated how defeated Snape sounded at that. He sighed in frustration and mussed up his hair. "No. I mean, yes, of course, but -"

"What, Potter?"

"But I want to know more about _you_ , too."

"About me." Snape's look changed from angry to suspicious and dubious. Weary, nearly. Harry nodded, but it didn't seem to make any difference. "Why -"

"Please?" Harry wouldn't have thought that would work, but it did. Maybe because Snape was tired, but Harry wasn't about to question Snape's motives for giving in. If he knew one thing about the man, it was that the being a bastard thing wasn't really that much of an act.

 

******

 

He didn't quite know how it happened. First there had been the talks which they had shared that had felt weirdly forced. They had spoken about the war and the time before. Then the topics had switched to people they found annoying. Helpers had begun to arrive at Hogwarts and the castle was, once again, more crowded. Harry continued to work on the reconstructions and he occasionally went to visit the Weasleys for a bit. The evenings he spent with Snape, whom he managed to talk into playing Exploding Snap and – much to his own dismay, as he would later see – Wizard Chess. Occasionally Draco stopped by and took over Snape's place at Exploding Snap, all the while bantering with Harry while Snape read. Sometimes the two of them took it upon themselves to badger Snape into eating more and drinking more water. All in all, both Draco and Snape seemed to be doing better as time passed.

Then Snape was allowed to leave the bed again and Madam Pomfrey let him walk over the grounds, provided Harry went with him, as a baby-sitter. The latter part was never mentioned between any of them and so Harry and Snape had filled the time they spent outside with talk that started with the forest and how it seemed less creepy nowadays, and ended with Quidditch. Snape supported, as Harry found out with a lot of surprise, Puddlemere United. He couldn't wait to tell Ron, but Ron was still Down Under with Hermione. The thought made Harry laugh.

Somewhere along the line Harry wondered whether Snape's cheeks would feel cold or warm to the touch. He wasn't too surprised by that thought – after all, hadn't all of his classmates once wondered whether Snape was a vampire? More of a surprise was when he noted that he was now familiar with the noises that Snape made in his sleep, how Snape, still half asleep, would stretch in the mornings to work out the kinks in his back and that he got annoyed when strands of his long hair fell into his face while eating, but he still refused to bind them together in a ponytail.

But Harry could ignore all those things and enjoy talking walks with Snape to escape the sudden noisiness of the castle and talk about Quidditch. They were strolling past what had been the Greenhouses – the remnants of the glass had been spelled away weeks ago and the only thing reminding people of what had been there before were some plants that refused to die. The patch was rather overgrown, but possessed some kind of wild beauty, if one was able to see that in Bubotuber plants and saplings of the Whomping Willow.

"What do you think you'll do once you're better?" Harry asked. The question seemed to come completely out of the blue, but it had been something Harry had wondered about for a while now. He didn't even know what he wanted to do with himself – the thought of becoming an Auror certainly still held its appeal, but Harry was just tired of all the fighting.

Snape looked at him from the corner of his eye and sniffed. "What do you plan on doing?" He had dropped the unnecessary addition of 'Potter' behind every second sentence a while ago. Nowadays he only used it in every fifth sentence and when Harry was being completely obtuse, in Snape's not so humble opinion. Harry counted it as quite the success.

Harry shrugged. "Once all of this is over?" He didn't quite know what he was referring to – the rebuilding of Hogwarts or the Wizarding World as he knew it – but both seemed to be appropriate. "I guess I'll go on holiday. Somewhere quiet." He looked around and frowned at the sky. It looked like it would start raining soon. He could already smell the weather change in the air. "Somewhere warmer, possibly." Snape didn't say anything to that. Harry wondered whether he wanted to go on a holiday, too. Or actually, whether Snape had ever been on one. "But I asked you first."

"And then I asked you, Potter."

Ah. Was he being obtuse again? "You're avoiding my question."

"That I am."

Harry gritted his teeth. Snape had certainly not lost his potential to be completely irritating. He forced himself to be calm. Showing how annoyed he was would only result in Snape snapping at him and stalking off and then Harry would have Pomfrey after him, because he 'left poor Severus alone'. Besides, Snape would still get out of answering his question. "Oh, come on! You must have thought of something."

"I was actually quite sure I would die."

Harry stopped in his tracks and stared at Snape disbelievingly. In all the time they had spent together, Snape had never admitted to that. Harry hadn't even thought it possible. "What?"

"You heard me, Potter."

"But ever since -" Snape shrugged, but continued walking. Harry had to hurry to catch up with him. "You must have thought of something!"

"I might have."

Harry crossed his arms in front of his chest and stared at Snape, long and hard, as if that would help him find an answer. "Do you want to stay here and teach?" A snort. So that was a no. "What about being a potions master and selling -" Another snort. What other talents did Snape have? He was a great spy, but Harry supposed there wasn't really a need for those anymore. Snape surely was shit with children, he didn't like idiots and/or people in general and—Harry grabbed Snape's hands and jerked him around, towards himself. "You should come with me on holiday!"

Time froze and Harry could have sworn that he and Snape blinked a couple of times. In retrospect, he remembered himself thinking at that precise moment _'Now I finally know what Snape's hands feel like'_ even though he didn't remember wondering about that before. But he must have.

 

******

 

Snape had never replied to Harry's suggestion. He had probably thought that Harry was joking – and maybe Harry had thought that, too. But lying on his bed while Snape was already sound asleep, he realised that he actually would have liked it if Snape went with him. If he could spend more time with the man.

 _'And hold his hand'_ , his mind helpfully supplied. But it wasn't like that, was it? Harry turned his head to look at Snape. His eyes trailed over Snape's forehead that seemed smoother when he was asleep, over his big nose, his mouth that hid teeth that should be seen to by Hermione's parents, probably. Not that Harry minded so much – they were so like Snape, after all. It would be weird if Snape suddenly had sparkling white teeth. He thought about how familiar he was with Snape's facial expressions, how he could judge what Snape's grunts meant, and how Snape's hands had felt. The palms were soft, but the fingers had calluses from working with potions and from clutching his wand too hard.

Did Snape wonder about Harry's hands as well? He had helped Harry so often that Harry just had to mean something to him. Or had the whole thing been borne out of duty and love for Harry's mother?

"Potter, you think too loud. I am glad you attempt to use your brain, but do try that out when I am not trying to sleep."

Harry jerked upright in his bed and blinked at Snape. He could have _sworn_ …

"Potter. Sleep."

Slowly, Harry lay down again. "Goodnight, Snape." Just as he was falling asleep, Harry believed he heard Snape say, "It's Severus," but maybe that had been just a dream.

 

******

 

It was only a few days later, which were filled by the careful avoidance of the topic of names, that he tried out calling Snape 'Severus'. He had pondered long at how to introduce the name, but all carefully laid out plans had gone out of the window at the first chance that offered itself to Harry. The chance, namely, was the afternoon tea.

"Pass me the scones," Snape said and nothing in the sentence indicated that it was anything other than a quite rude demand.

Harry, though, did know what Snape was like when he was rude, so he just handed Snape the scones, smiled and said: "There you go, Severus." There was no reaction, no hex, no scowl, and from then on Harry used the name 'Severus' whenever he could. So often, that Severus gave him an exasperated look at one point, but since he didn't snap, Harry deducted that Severus secretly liked what Harry did. It was a good day.

 

******

 

The hallways in the dungeons were cleared the last. Harry and Severus opted for a walk down into the dungeons instead of strolling over the grounds as usual and were surprised to see how much damage had been done. None of them had made a visit to the downstairs areas of the castle so far, mainly because it had been deemed dangerous due to the possible instability of the floors above. Most of the fights had taken place in the upper levels. The Slytherins had been sent back to the dungeons, some staying behind to fight, many being too young, too scared, or too wise to go up against their parents or the parents of people they knew. Everyone knew, though, that the same thing went for the other houses. Maybe there hadn't been as many in the same situation, but there had been some. None of them had been mentioned by any official source.

The hallways showed clear evidence of a fire. There were curse damages on the walls, the floors, the ceilings, paintings were torn, parts of walls blown out. The entrance to the house of Slytherin was all but destroyed. Briefly, Harry wondered who might have done such a thing, but then he remembered the battle and chaos and how mad certain people could be. He swallowed his questions and continued walking with Snape.

Their way led them to Snape's old classroom. Slughorn had chosen to teach in a different room altogether, saying something about no proper ventilation being in the old potions class-room and that the storage in the dungeons would gave counter-productive effects on the potions. Even Harry with his, admittedly, somewhat limited potions knowledge – though he had learned quite a bit from the Half-Blood Prince and not only copied whatever he found in the book – knew that Slughorn must have been spewing nothing but bullshit.

Snape pushed open the door to his old classroom. There were marks on the door, some looking like student graffiti, others like they had been caused by the battle. Inside, desks and chairs were strewn across the floor, some damaged, some just lying there. Cauldrons were in the mess, too, and there were puddles of something that Harry did not want to examine any closer.

Slowly, Harry walked over to what had once been Severus' desk. He had always wondered what it was like, sitting behind this heavy-set desk and looming over the students. The surface of the desk was dusty, but a slight vibration in the air told him that old enchantments to keep the desk protected and the drawers closed, was still intact. Severus was still walking around the room, his fingers occasionally trailing over the walls as if he wanted to remind himself of something that was already lost. Maybe losing things was, sometimes, not such a bad thing.

Harry sat down on the chair and immediately found that he definitely wasn't the right size to fill it out like he should. The desk was too high, the chair built for someone taller than him. Still, Harry could see all the desks from this position. No wonder Severus had always known what they had been up to.

Severus leant against the desk and rested his hands on the dusty surface.

"Does it feel strange?" Harry asked and looked around. Behind the desk the shelves were still filled with books and the occasional flask. On the blackboard there were still remnants of the ingredient list for a mild healing potion.

"More than," Severus said, but didn't delve deeper into the topic. Harry wondered what kind of memories this room held for Severus and whether they were part of the reason why he didn't want to stay here. Harry rested his head on his hands for a while, taking in the feel of the room. It felt strange for him too, but he didn't say it aloud out of fear it would somehow diminish the sentiment for Severus.

His eyes fell on Severus' hands – hands he'd held and still longed to hold. Harry didn't know what it meant, but he didn't want to start going deeper and analysing himself, either. He had, long ago, decided to go with what was coming. There were just some things that weren't worth fighting against. What he knew was that his dreams of Severus had increased lately and that sometimes, when he woke up in the middle of the night and could find no rest, just looking at Severus gave him comfort and lulled him to sleep again.

Severus was funny, too, he had noticed. It wasn't obvious; Severus did not share the same humour that Seamus or the twins had, but it came in spikes, occasionally and seemingly out of the blue. In an insult or an observation. During dinner, during chess or early in the morning before Severus had his first cup of tea. Though Harry had learned not to laugh during the latter occasion. Having a hex hit him in the butt wasn't quite the fun way to wake up.

It shouldn't surprise him how funny the man was. After all, he had been friends with Harry's mother. But this Severus was so much different than the _Snape_ he had known. Harry liked it.

He liked Severus, in general. The realisation came quietly and settled in. There was no earthquake, no shock, no self-doubt, just the simple acceptance of the fact. He liked Severus. A lot.

Harry shook his head at himself, then smiled up at Severus' slightly questioning glance. Severus had never made any moves on him, had never stated that he was interested in any way. And yet... Harry had shared Severus' memories and there had been something. He hadn't – not until know – been able to put his finger on it, but he knew now that what he had sensed had been emotions. Positive and strong ones. Harry didn't know what they might mean and he was just about as famous for being able to read other people's feelings as he was for his introspection. What he was good at, though, was action.

Slowly, Harry got up and came to stand close to Severus, who looked at him with trepidation and fear in his eyes. Harry placed one hand on Severus' chest, fisting his robes gently, and still Severus made no move. Severus didn't ask any questions, didn't push him away, so Harry leant upwards, tilted his head and kissed him.

Severus' lips were warm and soft, not at all like the rest of him, and Harry smiled against them. He pressed in closer to kiss Severus again. It was then that Severus pulled Harry closer and parted his lips. Their kiss was deep, unhurried and _perfect_. When they stopped, Harry had lost all his ability to speak. They rested their foreheads against each other and Severus chuckled.

"Don't expect that will get you any points for Gryffindor," he said and hugged Harry closer.

 

******

 

Autumn was already in full swing when Madam Pomfrey declared Severus fit to leave wherever he wanted to. Harry spent the whole day helping repair Gryffindor Tower and returned to the infirmary with the keen wish for a hot shower and dinner. He stopped in his tracks when he saw Severus packing what Harry recognised as Severus' favourite grey sweater into a small, battered suitcase. He didn't know what to say. It wasn't that he was speechless, per se, but rather everything wanted to get out at the same time – questions, yells, hexes – that it just seemed to get stuck in his throat.

Severus gestured at the suitcase. "Filch lent it to me. Old student suitcase. It was never claimed after Filch found it."

Harry swallowed thickly. Finally, the knot in his throat loosened and he said: "You didn't plan on saying goodbye."

He had never seen Severus look embarrassed, but there was a first for everything and Severus ducked his head. "I wasn't quite sure you would appreciate the sentiment."

"Bullshit!" Harry was in front of Severus immediately and grabbed him by the lapels. "You wanted to piss off like some bloody coward!" Severus winced at the word like Harry had known he would. It gave him a little bit of satisfaction. "Question is: why?"

Severus looked at anything but him, forcing Harry to grasp Severus' head in his hands and turn him to face Harry. "Why wouldn't you want me to know you're leaving?"

"You need to get on with your life."

"I am."

Severus snorted. "You're stuck in an old castle with a broken man. That isn't moving on."

Harry closed his eyes and forced himself to stay calm. "No. What I am doing is living in an old castle that has been my home since I was ten. I'm helping repair it, while waiting for you to get better. You're not broken, Severus."

"I'm not talking about the scars, Harry."

"No, I didn't think you were. After all, I do have my own fair share of them." Harry closed the distance between them until their chests touched, their bodies melting into a hug. Severus arms were hanging at his sides, but Harry could feel his quickened heartbeat. "But neither are you broken inside. Wounded, perhaps. Like I am. Like Draco is. It's no surprise that war has left us like this."

"But -"

"You will get better. We will. Why not do it together?"

Severus tried to push Harry away. "I'm not sure I will."

"Doesn't sound like you to give up." There was no answer, but Harry decided he didn't necessarily need one. Severus would find his confidence again, he was certain of that. Finally, Harry stepped back, but only to raise his wand and pack his things with a simple double swish and flick. "I'm coming with you."

Severus looked like he was about to protest, but in the end he snorted and shook his head. Harry liked to imagine that he saw a smile playing on Severus' face. "No use trying to out-stubborn a Gryffindor, is there?"

"No." Harry grabbed his backpack and Severus suitcase, and took Severus' hand. "Where are we going?"

"I was thinking about a beach, somewhere not too hot."

Harry grinned. Trust Severus to choose some place he wouldn't have to get rid of his robes. But going on a holiday somewhere with a beach actually sounded like a good idea. "We can owl Draco when we get there." Harry took one last look around the room that had been their home for the last couple of months, then got on his tiptoes and kissed Severus before they left.

 

The End


End file.
